


could i lock in your love, baby?

by pleurer



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Banter, Committing Crimes Because The Officer Is Hot, Flirting, M/M, Write based on osmosis of a canon you don't know, but my love for this ship is genuine, guess who's the criminal and who's the officer, in my case a canon I only partly know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-05 20:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20279062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleurer/pseuds/pleurer
Summary: “This is a formality, but I’ll say it anyway. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you.”Scott’s eyes travel down to the name badge on the officer’s ample chest. He sure does love a man with an ample chest. And a man in uniform, though it'd look better on Scott's bedroom floor. “Steve,” he says.





	could i lock in your love, baby?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meatball42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/gifts).

> I’ve never seen the Ant-Man movies, though they are high on my to-watch list. Everything I know about Scott is from CW, Endgame, and osmosis. I also do not know much about law enforcement, so assume this is a fictional city where laws are structured around the noble purpose of getting Scott Lang laid.
> 
> Title is from Latch - Sam Smith.
> 
> Redated for exchange author reveals.

Okay, so speeding isn’t exactly the most creative of petty crimes. Pretty amateur, really. But Scott’s running out of ideas, and he doesn’t _ actually _want to go back to jail— he has a daughter to care for, alright? He’s not putting his life on the line, not even for America’s ass.

Speaking of America’s ass. The officer in question saunters over. Scott rolls down the window and gives his best smoulder.

“Hello, officer. You found me.”

“I think we both know you were the one who found _ me,” _the officer responds in his monotonous but faintly amused face. “Step out of the car, sir.”

“You got it.”

Scott steps out of the car, and the officer surprises him by pinning him to the hood of the car.

“Really? You’re really going to arrest me for speeding? I thought I’d just get a ticket or something with your number written on it. I’ve been pining after you for months, you know. You could at least reward my good effort.”

“We don’t normally arrest people for speeding, but you were going fifty miles above the limit, and this is your seventh offense in as many weeks,” the officer recites in an exasperated voice. He handcuffs Scott’s wrists behind his back. “This is a formality, but I’ll say it anyway. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you.”

Scott’s eyes travel down to the name badge on the officer’s ample chest. He sure does love a man with an ample chest. And a man in uniform, though it'd look better on Scott's bedroom floor. “Steve,” he says. He likes the sound of that name. He wiggles his eyebrows for good measure. Arches his ass backwards. He’s been working on these glutes lately, hitting the gym almost every day. Cassie’s proud of his newfound healthy lifestyle. She doesn’t need to know that he has ulterior motives. Only Steve needs to know that.

“Funny,” says Steve. When Scott looks over his shoulder, though, Steve actually does look amused. His eyes are even prettier up close.

“Hey, Steve. After this whole arresting thing is over, what do you say we go on a date, get to know each other better? What’s your number?”

“911,” says Steve, deadpan. He gets a call on his walkie-talkie, or whatever that thing is on his waist. Scott gives it a dirty look just for interrupting their moment. Someone says something about needing backup for a hostage situation, and Steve says, “Roger that. I’m on my way.” 

“A hostage situation?” Scott wrinkles his brow. “That sounds serious. You’d know. You’ve held my heart hostage for months. When are you going to give it back to me?”

Steve ignores him. Scott doesn’t know what he expected. “Off you go, Mr. Lang,” says Steve with a final pat on his back. “Officer Barnes will take you back to the station.”

Officer Barnes walks over, and Steve transfers his handcuffed prisoner of love into the other man’s hands. Scott heaves a sigh of resignation and accepts his fate, hanging his head. But just as Steve is about to leave, he says, “When you have a moment, check your back pocket.”

“I’m handcuffed,” says Scott. Steve ignores him, just gives him a wave and what Scott might call a smile, if you squint.

"Don't look at me like that," says Officer Barnes with a world-weary look on his face. "I'm not telling you anything."

"Does he ever talk about me—"

"No," says Officer Barnes. And then, with something akin to camaraderie in his half-smile— "Maybe sometimes."

When the cuffs come off later at the station, after Hope bails him out, the first thing Scott does is check his pocket. He pulls out a piece of paper. On it is a ten-digit number, with a neatly scrawled note that says, _ I’d like to reduce the crime rate around here. A date with you wouldn’t be the worst way to get the job done. _

Yeah, that sounds like a fair trade, Scott thinks to himself, grin stretching wide across his face.


End file.
